


Our Place

by agent85



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bickering, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Moving In Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:30:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8845171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent85/pseuds/agent85
Summary: After the events of Slingshot, Jemma and Fitz debate the merits of Bridget vs. an apartment off the base.





	

Jemma felt her eyelids droop as she settled into her usual position next to Fitz, more than ready to rest from the cares of the day. It was easy to imagine that there was no world outside of the arms he had wrapped around her, no sounds except for the steady beating of his heart, and no problems at all. She was just about to drift off to sleep when Fitz shifted ever so slightly, ghosting his fingers over her ribs and making her practically melt into him.

"Jemma?"

"Mmm?"

"What if I can guarantee you that Bridget won't fall down and kill us?"

She buried herself deeper into him and pulled the covers over her head.

"Ugh, Fitz!"

"I'm an engineer, Jemma. You can't possibly think that I would mount—

"Fitz."

"—already determined the load that wall can bear—" 

"Fitz."

"—and you can see the maths for yourself; it's perfectly structurally sou—"

"Fitz!"

She'd thrown the covers off and stared him down only to find him staring back at her, mouth open. A challenge flashed in his eyes.

"Sound."

They watched each other for a moment, and when Jemma was sure he'd stopped talking, she retrieved the covers and groaned.

"Fitz, do we have to talk about it this now?"

She felt the rise of his chest as he took in a big breath and let it out. 

"I'm not going to kill us, Jemma."

She chuckled to herself, snuggling against him once again in a gesture of defeat.

"I know you won't," she said, tracing a lazy finger over his shirt.

"So I don't see why you think we have to pack everything back up and cart it off who knows where just when we got everything settled."

Her finger froze. "Fitz. You don't . . ." She put her hand flat against him and lifted herself up to meet his eyes. "We agreed that we'd ask about it tomorrow!"

"No," he said, frowning, "you informed me that we were going to ask about it."

"That's not . . ." Was it? She ran through the day's events in her mind, trying to pinpoint the exact words he'd said. Hadn't he . . .?

"I like it here." It was almost a whisper, and her attempt to meet his gaze fell flat when he stubbornly looked away. She followed his line of sight to find the picture of them on their nightstand, posing in front of the SHIELD eagle as she presses a kiss to his cheek. Something about the glint in then-Fitz's eyes broke her heart.

"I like it, too," she said.

"And I know it's just . . ." Fitz pinched his eyes closed. "I mean, I know you want your fancy flat with all your . . . your decorations and your unnecessary pillows, but this is . . . this is our place."

She drew her brows together, studying him. "It's _your_ place. _Your room_. I just . . . I'm just a guest who refuses to leave."

He threw his head back and scoffed. "Well, if it's _my_ place, then it seems to me that I should be able to put a telly wherever the—" 

"Fitz?"

He stopped mid-sentence to look up at her, and she had to blink a few times before she found the words.

"Fitz, why didn't you . . . I mean, you've been here for two years. Surely, if you wanted a television, you would have put it up by now."

That's part of why she liked this room; she'd come and gone so many times that this felt more like home than anywhere. Besides, she'd be lying if she didn't feel a sense of pride at the small changes that transformed his room to theirs. She'd done it the same way she'd crept back into his heart.

Fitz cleared his throat. "I, um, I didn't want to watch things in here before. Not when I could go out to the common room and . . ." His blush gave him away, and she smiled back at him.

"And see me," she finished. "I used to join you sometimes."

She used to stand just outside the doorway, debating whether or not she could join him without violating the terms of the friendship they'd just restarted. She'd been so careful back then that it was a relief to lie next to him now, to talk to him without holding back. There had been times when she was sure this day would never come.

So if she laid her head back on his chest, fisting her hand in his shirt, she was only proving to that old version of herself that this version of her life was possible. 

"I like watching things with you," he said.

"We can watch things in the new place," she offered. "And it'll be even more comfortable. We'll get furniture, and a rug, and a little treasure chest to keep blankets."

"Yeah," he said, idly playing with a lock of her hair. "I suppose so."

"You don't sound convinced."

"Jemma—"

"Don't you want to start this new part of our lives together?"

He blinked at her, and she was so stunned by her own outburst that she almost clapped a hand to her mouth. Instead, she stared back at him.

"Jemma." He shook his bowed head. "I know you want your perfect house with your perfect boyfriend, and that's not—I don't belong there."

She could have sworn that her heart stopped right there.

"Of course you do."

"No, I don't." He looked away, back towards the picture. "I'll barely fit with all your . . . there won't be room for me."

"Fitz." She propped herself on an elbow and, with a hand on his jaw, guided his eyes back to where she was. 

"It wouldn't be a home without you."

The hand still on his chest found his heartbeat in the silence that followed, one constant she could anchor herself to.

"Yeah?"

She smiled down at him. "Yeah." His hands grabbed hers, and she watched as he played with her fingers one by one, as if he was exploring them for the first time. "Fitz," she said, "do you have any idea how happy you've made me?"

His eyes flicked up at her, questioning. "You've always been happy," he said.

"When I was with you, I was. Not when—"

"Jemma."

She smiled at him, at his calm reassurance, at his unwaivering constancy. "Did you know that I used to dream about this back when I was following you around at the Academy?" Her smile quivered. "I've waited for so long, Fitz. I don't want to wait anymore. I want a place where they can't just knock on our door whenever they want us. Somewhere we can get away from all this and just be together."

He searched her eyes, and she'd never felt so desperate for him to see her. But somehow, the small quirk of one corner of his mouth was enough to set everything right.

" _Our_ place," he said.

She nodded.

"And we'll hang up Bridget while we look for it."

"We're not calling it—"

"But we will, right?" He cocked his head at her, and it was all she could do to lay her head back on his chest in surrender.

"Fine."

"Good."

"Fitz?"

"Yeah?"

She took her time to put her body in the right position, sighing in relief when she was just right. 

"I love you," she said.

"I love you, too."

She felt him settle in, too, and was there anything so nice as falling asleep with the best man she'd ever known? She'd never get used to it. When they were all settled in their new, perfect home, he would be even more hers than he was now. She drifted off peacefully, calmly, and when she was sure he was just as far gone as she was, she lifted her head to whisper gently in his ear.

"We're not calling it Bridget."

**Author's Note:**

> I regularly post sneak peeks and general ramblings about my writing on [my tumblr](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/tagged/Writings%20of%20Agent%2085).


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